


burnout

by TrainRush



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [26]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilt, Missing Scene, Recovery, References to Illness, Self-Doubt, conductor is in Misery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrainRush/pseuds/TrainRush
Summary: DAY 26: recoveryThe Conductor’s recovery from his battle with Hat Kid isn’t the smoothest.—(or, alternatively, the conductor experiences literal physical burnout.)
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105115
Kudos: 15





	burnout

**Author's Note:**

> this is the only time you will ever see conductor BOTB boss content from me

In the wake of his fight with Hat Kid, the Conductor was completely and utterly miserable. 

He wasn’t sure how he had expected to feel after being half-possessed by an hourglass and fighting a child to the death, but he’d certainly thought he’d be better off than _this._ This was much worse than anything the Conductor could have anticipated. 

Firstly, every single one of his limbs ached; not even because of his injuries, which had mostly healed. He could hardly even get himself out of bed with the dull ache that sounded every time he tried to move. Secondly, he’d gotten a horrible recurring headache that seemed to spring up out of nowhere every couple hours or so. Sometimes it even woke him up in the middle of the night with how powerfully it hit. Those aches played into an overwhelming sense of fatigue that had overtaken him, too. He was too exhausted to do almost anything. One of his earliest occurring afflictions had been unbearable light sensitivity. Seeing anything too bright hurt his eyes so much that it would spiral him into an awful headache no matter what he did to prevent it. Then there came a loss of appetite, which he wasn’t quite sure whether it came from the battle itself or his depression in the aftermath.

Everything combined together to find the Conductor sleeping away most of his recovery time in a pitch black room in the basement. It was dreadfully boring, and the Conductor resented not being able to walk out into the studio without fear of migraine or, worse, embarrassment. 

Embarrassment. He almost laughed. As though that damned battle wasn’t embarrassing enough. All of his closest owls had been there. They’d watched him throw knives at and try to murder a child. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible to embarrass himself further after that. Knowing him, though, he was sure it was possible. He always found some way to peck things up.

Like now, when he tried to check the time on his laptop and accidentally blinded himself, causing yet another headache to crop up. He closed the device, but not before noticing the time from the corner of his eye. 1AM.

He found the whole situation to be somewhat… strange. Why _was_ he reacting so harshly to that battle? He’d been injured on sets before, sometimes even in similar ways. What had set this instance aside from every other? Was it guilt? ...Sure, maybe partially. The only other factor that the Conductor could identify was that… hourglass. Was it the reason why he was so drained?

He looked down at his feathers. They had dulled into an ashy gold from the stress and exhaustion of that fight. 

It would make sense, wouldn’t it? That hourglass must have drained the life out of him. Must have relied on his soul… or something. His feathers only dulled like this whenever he was really weak or injured. And since he’d already recovered from most of his injuries, it would be the only thing to make sense, right?

He figured he should ask Hat Kid about it.

Then he stopped, even more guilt setting in. _Oh. Right._

He wouldn’t even be able to _face_ Hat Kid after what he’d done to her. The poor lass. She probably looked up to him (as bad of a decision as it was). She seemed to really enjoy starring in his movies, too. Him turning on her must have been an awful betrayal. No, he really _couldn’t_ face her again. Not at all. And besides, he didn’t know what exactly that hourglass had done to him. What if he saw her again, and then immediately tried to…

The Conductor buried his head in his hands. Yet another reason he couldn’t leave his room. He was terrified of what might happen if he came across… _anyone,_ really. After what had happened with the hatted lass, he could hardly even trust himself. He was… _dangerous._ He already knew that, sure, but never in this way. Never in a way that he couldn’t trust his own mind to obey him. 

How would he even be able to face Grooves after all of this was over? Sure, the latter had helped him recover a bit after the fight, taking care of his injuries well enough that they could heal on their own, but the two had not spoken even once after that. He hated him, surely. Hat Kid was his diva. He treated her almost like a father would treat his daughter. And now Conductor had gone and tried to kill her. Grooves would never be able to forgive him. He’d gone too far this time. And what if the Conductor snapped on Grooves? What if the Conductor tried to kill him, just like he had done to Hat Kid?

How would he be able to face _anyone?_ His owls? The media?

If he was good enough at covering things up, the media would never find out, but…

A little belatedly, the Conductor noticed that he was shaking. 

_He couldn’t even trust himself._

A sharp pang that signified the beginnings of a headache rang in his mind, and the Conductor attempted to steady himself. Panicking would only make things worse for him, and that was the last thing he wanted. Shuddering, he took a deep breath in and then out, reaching for a bottle of painkillers he’d previously carelessly thrown at the end of his bed. 

All he could do was wait. Eventually, his symptoms would go away, right?

He wasn’t even sure how long it had even been. As soon as he first laid down to nap in the bedroom, he’d lost all sense of the passage of time. 

Did it matter?

He felt hopeless.

Would anything clear up?

Would he be stuck here forever, as some kind of punishment?

Would anyone forgive him?

He’d have to answer those questions later. For now, he closed his eyes and attempted to focus on soothing the headache that had begun to bleed into his thoughts. 

And the headache blistered on.


End file.
